Isearu
Age: 22 Alliance: Neutral Appearance Red hair. One of the eyes is brown, and the other is pitch black without any pupils. Fairly tall. Carries a backpack, uses a dagger and a spiked gauntlet to fight. Lightweight, of average physical strength, but sneaky. Personality Lighthearted, often seems oblivious to other's anger. Has a knack of slipping away before a fight breaks out. Does not forgive easily, though, and will hold on grudges for a good amount of time. Backstory My 'training' began as soon as I could walk. Blacktalon came, and took me away from my family. Young as I was, I did not know what was going on, and I did not care much for the change of scenery. It took him days to calm me down. As I slept, he wrecked havoc on my body. He took out and replaced the bones in my left arm. He imbued a 'magical' crystal into my palm. He replaced my eye with something ungodly. When I was old enough, he convinced me this was neccessary to proceed. Naive as I was I believed him, and he sent me off to live with a tribe of barbarians. He would visit me, once in a while, and he would always tell me that the next part of the 'training' was coming soon. I was to be Blacktalon's last pupil. I was a spoiled brat, and the tribe leader claimed every day I was destined for great, great things. Magic would be restored, just for me, me, and I would succeed Blacktalon as head of the druidic council. He would tell me stories of other great students, such as myself - growing forests from ash, bringing people back from the brink of death with a snap of the fingers, that sort of business. I listened to each story with pride. I would become the best of them, I would become a god. I was around eighteen when I realized Blacktalon was lying to me, all this time. He killed my parents, you know. Right after he took me out of my bed. Just turned around, watched them jump with glee in their eyes. Then he walked up to my father, and stabbed him. And then he walked up to my mother, and stabbed her as well. And just carried me away. Carried me away to experiment on me, and ruin my life... for sport. That's what he does. That's what he's always done. He's no great druid, not a demigod come to save us all. He was just a thief, living off rumours and lies. So I slipped away. I slipped into the barbarians' armory and took a gleaming iron dagger; clearly stolen from one of the King's own men. Rage began building inside me as I wandered through the woods, looking for the man who would ruin my life for his amusement. I slipped the dagger into his throat, right as the sun began to rise, and I walked away. I began a new life. I talked to people, and I found out how things actually worked in the world. I learned to stay quiet, and stole my life back, piece by piece, from other people. Perhaps this was not the most moral of choices, but that's what I did, and that's what I will continue to do until magic finds a place back into the world. On that day I will dig up the musty tomes in my backpack, and start studying. I just have to find... a good place to settle in to. Perhaps... under the King's own gaze. We will see, we will see